


A Due

by halfheartedheroine



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sherlock's Violin, Teenlock, fuzzyginge, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfheartedheroine/pseuds/halfheartedheroine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John let out a breath—first half done, although it was the easier section—and he flashed a nervous grin at Sherlock as he came up on the stage as well.  Sherlock gave him a small, self-possessed smile, resting his hand on his own music stand to steady his nerves for a moment before shuffling through the sheet music.</p>
<p>A Due:  Italian, "for two".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Due

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuzzyginge](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fuzzyginge).



> I played around with the order of events for this fic, and I think I like it. Retrospective sections are separated from the present time by asterisks.
> 
> The songs I had in mind were Suzuki’s Minuet 2 for beginners (John’s solo), “Married Life” from Pixar’s ‘Up’ (duet), and an excerpt from Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2, (Sherlock’s solo)… if you are so inclined to listen. Not particularly necessary.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

            Sherlock turned to face him, his right hand frozen in adjusting his tie while his left clung to his violin and bow.  “Of course you can, John, we’ve played this a million times.  You can play that minuet in your sleep.  It’s muscle memory.”

            John nodded, wiping his sweaty palms on his shirt sleeves before picking his violin back up.  “Just the solo, then the theme, and then you’ll blow them away with Brahms,” he said, managing a nervous smile.

            Sherlock matched him with a rare grin as well, quick but still appreciated.  The moderators on the other side of the curtain clapped, and the flautist returned behind the stage, shooting John and Sherlock a relieved smile before leaving.  “You’re up,” he told John, resting a hand on his shoulder to gently steer him towards the stage to be graded.

 

* * *

 

            It had been a really stupid decision on John’s part, if he was honest, deciding to switch to a new instrument, particularly since he was going to be graded on it.  But he hadn’t played the clarinet in ages, and one impulse decision later, he found himself with a rent-to-own student violin and an introduction text.  The instructor, Mrs. Hudson, had been a little concerned that he’d never played before, but she was still being encouraging, setting him up with difficult pieces and helping him through them slowly but surely.  He’d holed himself up in a practice room to study late at night to carefully work through the newest one, and he paused for a second after hearing footsteps, but continued upon not hearing them again.

            “You’re the other violinist.”  John jumped a bit, thinking that the other person had left, and he looked up, the violin still pinned beneath his chin.

            “Yeah, I am,” John said, his foot bumping against his battered violin case.  He took the violin down from the ready position and rested it at his side.  “That makes you Sherlock, then.”

            The other boy nodded, leaning in the doorway.  “That’s me.  You’re not as atrocious as I’d expect a beginner to be,” he added, nodding towards the violin.”

            John snorted.  “Yeah, ‘not atrocious’ is exactly what I’m aiming for.  And I can read sheet music already, makes it easier.”

            Sherlock nodded.  “There’s hardly ever anyone in the music building this late.  It’s interesting, really,” he said, looking over John’s music to judge how much he knew already.  “Listen.  I’ve got an idea.  The department heads really like collaborations, and no one else really seems to care enough to drag themselves over to the music building at one in the morning just to practice.  Let’s do one piece together, then.  One piece separately and one duet, I think that’s what they prefer for finals.”

            John paused, surprised to say the least.  He seemed abrasive, but it oddly enough didn’t push John away.  “Um, yeah, I suppose we could do that.”

            “Good.  I’ll start looking for something that fits both our skill levels, and I’ll let you know,” Sherlock said briskly.  “’Night,” he added with a short nod, before vanishing back into the maze of practice rooms.

            John stared after him for a moment—had that really just happened? he wondered—before lifting the violin back up to start again, staring again at his marked up textbook.

 

* * *

 

            The minuet for his final performance was from his beginner’s introduction book, a heavily simplified version of some classical composer’s work, and John was certain that one million playings of it was only a slight overestimation.  Still, despite the heavy studying, he still stumbled at the position shift—damn it, Mrs. Hudson had offered to find him an easier piece, but he wanted to be able to keep up with Sherlock, or at least attempt to—and he cursed under his breath as he continued on.

            Mrs. Hudson was sitting just behind the department heads judging him, and she nodded encouragingly when he made momentary eye contact.  He couldn’t nod back, no unnecessary movements, but he fixed his eyes back onto his sheet music until the very end of the piece, playing the last few notes with a tiny bit of vibrato.

            He let out a breath—first half done, although it was the easier section—and he flashed a nervous grin at Sherlock as he came up on the stage as well.  Sherlock gave him a small, self-possessed smile, resting his hand on his own music stand to steady his nerves for a moment before shuffling through the sheet music.

 

* * *

 

            Sherlock leaned over, poking the sheet music back into place with his violin bow.  “Come on, just these two measures.  That’s where we’re getting off track.”

            John sighed heavily, bringing the violin back up under his chin.  “We need to play the whole thing slower,” he grumbled, wondering if Sherlock was ever going to get sick of how long he was taking.  They’d been practicing both together and separately for weeks, and although he was making progress, he was still light years behind Sherlock’s skills.  Still, Sherlock seemed to be putting up with it, and John wondered how long he’d manage for.  Mrs. Hudson tutted a little as they continued again, slower as John had requested.  This time, they finally got the correct notes, the timing lining up perfectly, and John grinned.

            “You’re certain you still want to do this?” John asked as they packed up their instruments, getting ready to leave.  “Because really, there are other people who don’t need to go over each section at two beats per minute.  I thought when you asked if we should collaborate that we were at the same level, at least.”

            “I want to,” Sherlock said calmly.  “Do you still want to?”

            “Yeah, I mean, I’m going to at least finish through until finals.”

            “Good, then.”

            They walked in silence out of the music building, the autumn air outside crisp as they started wandering.

            “Listen, how about we go get dinner, and then we can keep practicing later tonight?” John offered.  It was nice, really, spending time with Sherlock (although sometimes he wanted to rip his own hair out whenever he missed an easy note he had practiced again and again), and the idea of going back to his flat and trying to ignore his roommate alone sounded just miserable.  “Or we could just study later, that’s fine too.”

            Sherlock nodded, switching his violin to his other hand to keep from cracking their cases together.   “Yeah, I’ve got a midterm later, but dinner sounds like a plan.”

            “Perfect.  Are you ready to go now?”

 

* * *

 

            “Ready?” John asked softly, holding his bow just above the strings in the beginning position.

            Sherlock nodded, fitting the violin under his chin.  He glanced to John quickly, hearing his quick breath intake, and he reached out to straighten the sheet music on the stand with his bow.  “We’re just in the practice rooms,” he told him under his breath, his eyes fixed on the beginning of the waltz.  “Don’t think about anyone else, it’s just you and me, and we’re just playing like normal.  If we need to restart again, we can.”

            “Practice rooms,” John agreed softly, before counting off into his beginning notes.  He had the steady one-two-three count in the background while Sherlock was responsible for the trilling, tumbling melody on the higher strings, and before his part began, Sherlock allowed himself a small smile.

 

* * *

 

             Sherlock had gotten into the habit of studying in the music building, walling himself away in the soundproof practice rooms and cracking open his books.  The science building was always far too loud, and although he’d liked studying with John, he knew it was hardly appropriate for him to constantly ask if he could come over and spend nearly hours in complete silence—punctuated by teasing, of course, then trying to cook together in John’s tiny kitchen.  Once, he’d even managed to get John to laugh so hard that he cried by mimicking his roommate, Anderson, and Sherlock wished he’d had a camera at that moment.  Still, they were both studying for exams, so they were probably slightly unsociable, he thought to himself, turning the page and stretching out on the floor, yawning a bit as he did so.

            A familiar figure wandered past the doorway, checking some of the other practice rooms before returning in front of practice room 1B.  John knocked on the glass door lightly, leaning inside.  “Hey, Sherlock, can I study in here with you?  The other rooms are all taken, and I could use the quiet,” he added, holding up his textbook.  “I’ll try not to be a bother.”

            “Yeah, that’s fine.”  Sherlock nodded, moving over and gesturing towards the free space.

            John settled in, the two of them sitting against the back wall of the tiny practice room, and they both continued reading for a while in a companionable silence.  People continued to wander past their glass door, searching for a quiet nook for their own studying, and Sherlock glanced up each time, a bit distracted.  He wasn’t certain if it was his general lack of sleep (one poorly planned out all-nighter later) or just his apathy towards history, and he spent several minutes focusing on the same page.

            “This isn’t weird, is it?” John asked after a few more minutes.  “I know whenever I see you around the science building that you’re usually studying on your own, but whenever we study at my place, you seem to be alright with it, so… Seriously, if this is bothering you, it’s fine, I’ll go find somewhere else.”

            Sherlock shook his head.  “No, it’s fine, really.  As long as you’re fine with it.  I’m just tired.  I’m fine.” 

            John nodded, turning the page in his book.  Sherlock continued reading for a few minutes before leaning over to rest his head against John’s shoulder, looking up for just a second to see that John was smiling faintly, and he smiled a bit as well, realising that he was becoming fond of this arrangement.

 

* * *

 

            It really was a lovely piece, despite being from a children’s movie, and Sherlock was really fond of it.  It began bright and lively, a soaring melody, before they both slowed down into the melancholic section.  They both stumbled a bit--Sherlock during the rapid-fire trills, John during the tempo change--but they accommodated, letting the other continue on before jumping in again.  Sherlock didn’t dare look up to the instructors, particularly as the song approached its conclusion, the notes turning wistful yet hopeful… and as they let the final note ring out, he heard John let out a relieved breath, almost a laugh.  He let himself grin as well, finally looking back up to John to find his identical smile, and John patted his back with his bowing hand quickly, before returning to wait for him behind the stage.

 

* * *

 

            They didn’t have any classes together—John had already been at Uni for a year before Sherlock even started—but they had gotten used to waiting and studying together, offering each other help when the other one got frustrated (which was a little more uneven, John had to admit).  John tried to balance it out by reminding him ‘a bit not good’ as Sherlock curtly dismissed their waitress when they were out, and they both seemed to be doing well with it.  One day, Anderson had pointed out that John ate more meals with Sherlock than without, and John realised that it was entirely true.  And if they had classes together, they’d probably end up eating lunch together as well.  It was just natural now, once classes were done, they seemed to gravitate towards each other, either for studying or practicing.

            “Are you taking any more music classes after this one?” Sherlock asked.  They were back to back in one of the practice rooms—Sherlock wanted to comment about John’s history paper, and John kept looking over the chemical bond diagrams in Sherlock’s textbook, and this was the only way they could keep to themselves about it.

            John paused in his typing, listening as Sherlock drummed his fingers against his book.  “Probably not,” he admitted.  “I’ve got a full schedule with organic chemistry, and anatomy, and then microbiology is supposed to be really difficult as well…. I want to, though,” he added quietly.  “But we could still study and everything like we have been, just… we’ll still be on different subjects again.  That’ll still be like how we are now.”

            Sherlock nodded, still quiet as he thought about it.  John felt like he should offer to try to take another violin class, but he knew it would wreak havoc on his schedule and grades, and he knew that Sherlock wouldn’t want him to lie about it.  Blunt honesty seemed to be the best approach, even when it seemed to border on rudeness.

“Let’s go over the theme again,” Sherlock finally said, standing up and reaching for his violin, and John followed.

 

* * *

 

            John had packed away his violin as Sherlock played, and as he returned to the behind the stage area, John grinned widely.  “That was brilliant, Sherlock!”

            Sherlock scoffed a little, but he was smiling as well.  “I messed up on the transition, but it wasn’t as horrific as I thought it’d be.”  Despite his lukewarm words, he actually felt pretty pleased about the project, and he reached forward to hug John, mindful to not accidentally hit him with his bow.  They relaxed against each other for just a moment, Sherlock allowing himself the momentary closeness for only a moment before pulling away, moving back over for his violin case.

            “Listen, before I forget, I wanted to show you something I printed out yesterday,” Sherlock said, mildly aware that he might have broken the embrace a bit too abruptly, and he pulled several sheets of music from his case.  He handed over half of them, straightening out the edges as he added, “I know it wouldn’t be for credit, but I thought that the musical score was really good.  It might take some work for us to pick apart the melody and transcribe it, and it’s probably going to be ridiculously complicated, but I thought it’d be a good project for us.  In our spare time, I mean.”

            His voice had gotten quiet as he continued talking, and he felt a little embarrassed by the entire idea up until John grinned and said, “Of course.  If you’ll put up with me sawing away at it, it sounds great.  Fantastic, actually.”

            Sherlock grinned, the bright expression feeling unfamiliar as he tucked away the violin into its case, and they started for the exits.  “I’d put up with it right now, if you’ve got the time,” he added.

            John chuckled a bit.  “How about dinner first, then violin?”

            “Fantastic,” Sherlock echoed, still smiling.

 


End file.
